


Parent-Teacher Interviews

by thornsword (eeeeeeee)



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: M/M, Nagisa is a smol child and doesn't deserve this, Parent-teacher interviews, karmagisa - Freeform, minor abuse, protective!3-E, protective!Karma, several inaccuracies as to how parent teacher interviews actually work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:50:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5551394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeee/pseuds/thornsword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s parent-teacher interviews night, and Nagisa is the first one to go. With Korosensei as a teacher, and Hiromi Shiota being… who she is, it goes just about as well as you'd think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parent-Teacher Interviews

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo!
> 
> I love these two, and I’m really sorry for putting them through this (I’m not)
> 
> Pairing(s): Karma x Nagisa 
> 
> Word count: 3093
> 
> Warnings: Abusive mum stuff, not edited at all, everyone’s suuuper OOC, one f-bomb and I made everything a little extreme I think 
> 
> Disclaimer: Why the hell would I write these shitty oneshots about my own characters??
> 
> Enjoy!

Parent-teacher interviews were today, and there was nothing Nagisa was dreading more. 

 

“What are your parents like, Nagisa-kun?” Kurahashi chirped “You’ve never mentioned them before.”

 

“I-um,” Nagisa gulped uncomfortably, “my father left when I was small, so it’s just me and my mother…”

 

The smile fell off her face. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Kurahashi apologised as the mood grew sombre.

 

Nagisa shook his head, forcing a smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he told her, “what are your parents like, Kurahashi-san?”

 

“My dad’s the CEO of this small-scale insurance company, so he’s really busy a lot but he still tries to make time for me,” she gushed, “and my mum’s a manager in a bank, I’m not exactly sure what she does but she says it’s a good job. They’re both really nice people and I love them very much.”

 

“They sound like good parents,” Nagisa agreed, a shaky wistfulness to his tone..

 

“They are,” Kurahashi nodded, “and I’m glad they opted to send an email this year, I always loose the note.”

 

_Email…?_

 

Nagisa’s world spun on it’s axis. 

 

_If mum got an email, that means she knows everything… including the thing about not wearing school uniform…_

 

_Oh God…_

 

“Nagisa-kun? are you alright?” Kurahashi asked worriedly, “You look like you’re about to faint!”

 

Karma, having heard the Kurahashi’s outburst, got out of his seat and rushed to where Nagisa was. “Is he ok?” Karma asked. 

 

_I’m fine,_ Nagisa wanted to answer, _I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine…_

 

“I don’t know! We were just talking and then he went like this!”

 

“Should I go get karasuma-sensei? Koro-sensei’s still in America!” Nakamura inquired, standing up and poised to run to the teacher’s office. 

 

“N-no, I’m fine,” Nagisa told her, “I just felt a little light-headed.”

 

“You sure?” Nakamura asked. 

 

Nagisa nodded, and Kurahashi let out a sigh of relief and Nakamura slumped back down. 

 

Korosensei whirled into the classroom just as the bell rang. 

 

“Now, as you all know, it’s parent-teacher interviews tonight,” he started, “you don’t have to wear school uniform, but I do want you all to come along.”

 

Nagisa squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. 

 

“Make sure to hide your porn mags, sensei!” Karma yelled. 

 

Korosensei’s face turned pink and he hid his face. “Oh no, no… imagine if… no….” he wailed. 

 

———

 

Nagisa took a deep breath before stepping into his house. 

 

“Oh, Nagisa-chan you’re home!” his mother greeted, “I picked out the perfect outfit for you to wear to parent-teacher interviews! And you _must_ let me do something with your hair!”

 

Nagisa winced away as she brought out a billowing purple dress and black flats.

 

“Mum, I’m not wearing a dress to parent-teacher interviews,” Nagisa told her, his voice wavering. 

 

Her expression faltered briefly, before regaining the same jovial composure. “Now, now Nagisa-chan, stop making jokes. It’s only fitting that my daughter should wear her best dress to this,” she giggled, slowly advancing towards him.

 

“Y-yes mother,” Nagisa conceded, knowing a confrontation would only end with a bruised face and an angry parent. 

 

_“Thats my girl,”_ she sung, thrusting the dress and shoes into his hands, motioning for him to go upstairs and change. 

 

“And take those stupid hair ties out!” she called up after him, “you look like a boy Nagisa-chan!”

 

Pride swelled up in his chest. _She thought I looked like a boy,_ he thought happily. 

 

It wasn’t much, but Nagisa considered it progress. 

 

He slipped on the dress and tucked his feet into the shoes before looking in the mirror. Staring at his hair, he debated with himself for a couple of moments before deciding to leave it up - if she saw how he was _very much not a girl,_ he might not have to wear this. 

 

Gulping nervously, Nagisa descended the staircase, the hem of the dress brushing delicately at his knees. 

 

“I’m in the kitchen!” his mother called happily when she heard him. 

 

He coughed awkwardly, indicating his presence. 

 

“Oh you look so _beautiful_ Nagisa-chan!” she gushed as she whirled around to look at him. 

 

Her eyes zeroed in on his hair. Nagisa felt a shiver run down his spine as she lowly put down the wooden spoon and walked over to him. 

 

“I thought I told you,” she hissed venomously, “to _take those out.”_

 

Thrusting her hand into his hair, she tugged painfully at the bunches on his head until they came undone. 

 

Azure tresses fell down around his shoulders, framing his face. 

 

The feeling of his hair being taken out was like a thousand tons on his heart - nothing had changed, there was _no_ progress. 

 

Everything was exactly the same, and he was going to the parent-teacher interviews like this. 

 

Resignedly, Nagisa hung his head like he always did and let his mother’s hands fiddle with his hair,putting it up it small plaits or curling a lock around her finger, muttering to herself. 

 

Dinner was a silent affair, punctuated only by his mother mumbling offhandedly about how _my poor Nagisa-chan doesn’t deserve to be in that class,_ and _I hope you’ve been well-behaved._

 

Immediately after they ate, Nagisa was dragged by his hair to the car. 

 

“I hope the teacher says you can finally move out of that class,” his mother tells him for the umpteenth time as they drive, “we’ll beg the headmaster if we have to, but I will not let your future be hindered by the reputation of one class!”

 

Nagisa didn’t say a word. He had fallen into the quiet, submissive sadness that often consumed him whenever he was around her. If he was quiet, he mightn’t be noticed, if he was submissive, he didn’t get hurt - the sadness was just an added bonus from the poison that fell from her mouth in the form of words. 

 

Karma had called him a snake, but he was _so very wrong._

 

_She_ was the snake - cunning and deadly and _terrifying,_ all while being disguised as a nice, charming lady. 

 

“Nothing will get in the way of what I have planned for you,” she continued darkly, glaring at the road ahead and clenching her hands around the steering wheel. 

 

The car stopped. 

 

They were here. 

 

“First, you get thrown into this class, and now I have to climb a _mountain_ just to tell your teacher you’re moving to a different class?” his mother scowled as she started walking. 

 

Nagisa barely even felt tired going up the mountain any more - the assassination training had made sure of that - but right now, as he trailed after his mother, he felt like he could barely even breathe.

 

Every step further was another towards _them -_ the fluffy feeling that usually blossomed in his stomach when he thought about his classmates was now a churning pool of dread and apprehension. 

 

His instincts were kicking in. Nagisa was scanning the area for a way out, remembering the best places to hide, or where the hidden weapons were without even realising it. All sorts of plans popped up in his mind - _jump off that tree, go into that tunnel, take the rifle behind the bush and shoot -_ but his feet kept going, one step at a time, as if she had him on a leash. 

 

The dress billowed around his knees and his hair blew around his face, obscuring the classroom from his sight. 

 

He made no movement to pull the wild blue locks back into place, grateful that he was not able to see their faces. 

 

A cold hand gripped his own, giving it a sharp tug. 

 

“Come _on,_ Nagisa-chan!” his mother exclaimed, “we don’t want to be late.”

 

_Yes we do,_ he thought, _we really, really want to be late - or better yet, we could just go._

 

It was no use. He could see the unmistakeable beaten-down wood of the classroom, the clearing around it, the oval they used for training. 

 

They were here. 

 

———

 

“Is that Nagisa’s mum?” a voice sounded from the window.

 

A cool hatred slid down Karma’s spine as he moved to look outside. The woman in question had her back turned, but he could clearly see that she was shouting, and judging from the flash of blue from in front of her, Karma knew something was wrong. 

 

It had been a couple of weeks since Karma had caught Nagisa crying behind the old building.

 

He had sat down next to the blue-haired boy and looped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close without any questions. They stayed like that for a while, until Nagisa’s sobs had reduced to small hiccups. 

 

“I-it’s my mum,” he had spluttered out, “she… she…”

 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Karma murmured into his hair, both arms drawing the smaller boy into a tight hug. 

 

Nagisa shook his head. 

 

“She… makes me wear dresses, and talks to me like I’m a girl and she’s got my whole future planned out so I can do all the things she never got to do,” he exclaimed, his voice getting steadily louder with desperation, “… she hits me when I don’t agree with her and I’m _so, so scared.”_

 

Karma was shocked. “Y-your mother does all that?” he choked out. 

 

The blue-haired boy nodded against his chest and waves of worry crashed over him. Ho had he never _noticed?_ Why hadn’t he paid more attention? _How could he have let this happen?_

 

“Stop.”

 

Karma was brought out of his trance and he stared down at Nagisa. “Stop what?” he asked, the words scraping against his throat. 

 

“Stop beating yourself up about something you couldn’t control.”

 

He blinked owlishly. “How did you-“

 

“Your heartbeat rose,” Nagisa started, raising his head of the taller boy’s chest, “your breathing got more erratic, but mainly just because _I know you.”_

 

Their faces were so close together now that Karma could see the tears clinging to Nagisa’s eyelashes like dew, his cheeks were flushed red from crying and those bright, blue eyes were staring straight into his. 

 

“Maybe I _should_ have done something though,” Karma contradicted softly, his throat suddenly feeling very dry and a warmth grew in his chest. 

 

“You do _more_ than enough.”

 

With that, Nagisa slowly closed the gap between them and the warmth in Karma’s chest grew so hot he thought he’d explode. Before he could react to the kiss, Nagisa drew away. 

 

They stared at each other for a second, anxiousness exhuberating from the smaller boy in waves before Karma leaned in a pressed their lips together again, winding his arms around Nagisa’s middle. 

 

Someone jostled his shoulder, effectively snapping him out of the reverie. 

 

“Wow! She’s so pretty!”

 

Karma scowled. Since that day, Nagisaa had come crying to him _nine_ times - even going so far as to admit, as they were walking home, that he would rather never go home again then go home that night. 

 

Needless to say, he had slept over at Karma’s place. 

 

“Karma-kun, are you alright?” Okuda asked, “you look scary.”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologised, running a hand through his hair frustratedly and turning his gaze back out the window. 

 

As soon as he did, his eyes widened and both his hands clenched. _Nagisa was wearing a dress._

 

_Nagisa was wearing a dress and his mother was smiling and Karma had never wanted to kill someone more._

 

“Is that… is that _Nagisa-kun?”_ Sugino asked incredulously. 

 

“I always knew he was into cross-dressing,” Terasaka smirked. 

 

Karma’s fist had found Terasaka’s face before anyone knew what was happening. 

 

“What the _fuck_ was that for?” he yelled, clutching his bleeding nose.

 

“Look at him!” Karma shouted furiously, pointing towards the window, “does he look very _into it_ to you?”

 

The class was silent for a moment, each of them staring with bated breath at their classmate, who was walking like it was a muscle memory, his eyes were downcast and glazed over, blue hair whipping around his pale face wildly. 

 

“…He hates his hair like that,” Kayano murmured sombrely. 

 

Worry and discomfort settled over them like a blanket. _There was something very wrong with Nagisa._

 

_———_

 

“…And of course, after that she’ll get a well-paying job and travel all around the world!” Nagisa’s mum told him, “that’s why she can’t stay in this class.”

 

“Shiota-san,” Korosensei started after a few moments of silence, “why do you keep referring to Nagisa-kun as _she?”_

 

“Because whether he likes it or not, Nagisa-chan is my _daughter,”_ she snapped, “this child ruined my entire life - so it’s up to her to do _everything I say!”_

 

Nagisa winced. 

 

“And about this future you have planned out for him,” the teacher continued in a strangely monotonous voice, “have you asked him about it?”

 

“This child doesn’t know what’s good for her, that’s a mother’s job.”

 

“Nagisa?” Korosensei asked. 

 

His head jerked up, not used to being called on in conversations where his mother was included. He stayed silent, staring up at the poorly-disguised teacher.

 

“Do you want to leave this class?”

 

The question hit Nagisa right in the gut. _No no no no no!_ his mind screamed as his shoulders trembled and his mouth remained shut tight. 

 

“Do you want to leave 3-E?”

 

The blue-haired boy shook his head. “No,” Nagisa whispered softly, before his voice grew steadier, “I want to stay.”

 

“That’s ridiculous!” his mother screamed, standing up from her chair and raising a hand above her head, “I _own_ you _,_ you cannot tell me _what to do!”_

 

Just as she was about to bring her hand down on Nagisa’s cheek, the door slammed open and something curled around her wrist. She watched in horror as a boy with startling red hair wrapped his arms around Nagisa protectively as seemingly dozens of children with guns and murderous expressions surrounded her. 

 

She couldn’t move her hand. 

 

Whipping her head up, she saw that her arm was being held in a vice-like yellow… thing. Her wide eyes followed it until it connected back up to the teacher, who was now the same shade.

 

“Wha… what.. is happening?” she asked no one in particular, “why do the children have _guns?”_

 

“Because you were going to hit him,” the one with red hair growled, and something inside her knew that she should be _very, very scared,_ “you were going to hit him _again.”_

 

“Nagisa is _my_ child,” she exclaimed desperately, “I can do what I want!”

 

The boy stood up slowly, each muscle tensing with such… _bloodlust_ that she didn’t know whether to cower or run. 

 

Suddenly, he stopped, bloodlust fading like it had never existed. 

 

“Stop, Karma.”

 

A sense of victory surged through her as she realised it was Nagisa who stopped him. 

 

“Put down the guns.”

 

The class shared uneasy looks, but did as he said. 

 

The red-head helped Nagisa up and he turned to face her. 

 

“Mum,” he started, voice barely a whisper, “I want to stay in the E class.”

 

She opened her mouth to contradict, but Nagisa continued. 

 

“I’m _going_ to stay in the E class, I’m going to stay in this assassination classroom with everyone and I’m going to kill korosensei. I promise it won’t affect my high school, or my university applications, or my future, and one day I’ll even cut my hair but please,” he bowed low at the waist, surprising everyone in the room, “could you just be my mum?”

 

Hiromi Shiota was stunned. It was like something inside her clicked - something that told her Nagisa _wasn’t_ her second life, but _she didn’t want to let it go._

 

She didn’t want to give up the power that came with seeing the way her life was _supposed_ to go, and it _just wasn’t fair._

 

Hiromi Shiota didn’t want to give up the controller to Nagisa, but she had to. 

 

———

 

Once Nagisa’s mother had stumbled out of the room, followed by the class, who had been half-heartedly reprimanded by Karasuma-sensei for threatening a civilian with guns, Nagisa felt a pair of arms wrap around his middle.

 

“I’m so proud of you,” Karma whispered in his ear. 

 

Nagisa turned in the embrace so his hands laid flat on the taller boy’s chest. “I don’t even know what just happened,” he murmured shakily. 

 

“You beat her.”

 

Those three words resonated in Nagisa’s chest and he breathed deeply, trying to comprehend what they meant. 

 

Karma lifted his arms up to the long blue tresses framing his boyfriend’s face, long fingers nimbly tying it up into his usual hairstyle.

 

“There,” he smirked, “looking better already.”

 

Nagisa looped his arms around the red-haired boy’s neck. “We beat her,” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together. 

 

Karma smiled and hummed in agreement, letting his hands fall down to rest on the smaller boy’s hips. 

 

“You know… we never actually got a first date.”

 

Nagisa giggled. “Didn’t we?” he replied. 

 

“No,” Karma smirked. 

 

“Such a shame.”

 

“It really is, isn’t it?”

 

They were playing some kind of game, skirting around the question by saying things like _“there_ is _a new cafe that just opened though,”_ or _“didn’t you say you wanted to see that new movie?”_

 

“You don’t happen to be free this weekend, do you?” Karma smirked, snaking his arms around Nagisa. 

 

“No, I’m actually completely free,” was the response. 

 

“Well then, Nagisa, would you like to go out with me?”

 

Giggling, Nagisa drew Karma down into a kiss. It was messy because they were both smiling and their teeth clashing slightly but neither of them cared because, despite the air smelling of old wood and gunpowder, and the - slightly terrifying - event that had taken place moments before, everything was perfect. 

 

“I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> This had been in my files for ages, so I thought I might as well finish it. 
> 
> Sorry, again, for making everyone so OOC, and please tell me what you thought!
> 
> As always, 
> 
> Thornsword.


End file.
